


Moony in Black

by Mikato_Dragos



Category: Men in Black (Movies), MoonyVR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikato_Dragos/pseuds/Mikato_Dragos
Summary: If a wannabe Harlan Ellison wrote a crossover between MIB and Inception in the MoonyVR universe. Wait, that's the truth.





	1. Why?

**Author's Note:**

> Moony in Black
> 
> By Magi Democrati, Mikato Dragos, and Retujy Zetsubou
> 
> FEEDBACK NEEDED TO FIX THIS DISPOSABLE RUBBISH :)
> 
> Retujy: ...we just cribbed off Harlan Ellison ('Pretty Maggie Moneyeyes'), Agatha Christie ('Murder on the Orient Express'), Nisio Isin ('Bakemonogatari'), Christopher Nolan ('Inception'), Lowell Cunningham ('Men in Black'), and pretty much every other writer - not to mention a certain The Onion article.  
> Mikato: And it didn't even explain our emotions that well.  
> PTO: m8 i didnt take lsd b4 how u think i can write this  
> Mikato: We didn't, either.  
> Retujy: ...message for MoonyVR. Recall the unrelated project I mentioned last time - it requires us (by which I mean me) to learn Japanese, which I want to utilise in my editing your videos; so it's delayed slightly.  
> Mikato: Hello Mellow Aki. I don't simp for you; I merely respect artists as a whole. Hence I hope you will forgive me for what, at first glance, seems to be a perverted fanfiction.  
> Retujy: That would still be better than the rubbish we actually put out.  
> PTO: shut u 2 and - enjoy the story! :D

AUGUST 17TH 2030

UNITED NATIONS DEFENSE INSTITUTE HEADQUARTERS (UNDI-US-0), NEW YORK

'...and it is with great respect that we present the one hundred and forty-third Award for General Excellence to Miss Aki, agent-in-command of the Czech Republic unit.' Cue the crackling ovation, always necessary to break - or rather, emphasize - the mundanity of the event. The crossbreed, her cloudy tail wrapped around her gold-tinged black suit - ironically like the animal smugglers they'd stopped - stepped onto the stage.

All eyes were on her now - no, the swing of the door broke the faces, her teammate Moon hastily shutting himself out. A phone call, presumably. He'd sort it out, no worries - but she'd better finish it up fast, just as well. 

'Hello. I am Mellow Aki of WEAR-CZ' - her enunciation playing across rhymes of the American familiarities Indy and CD - 'and as you know,' - no doubt the attendees had been schooled to death by spamlike newsletters - 'my team and I have caught seventeen Centaurians illegally smuggling over a hundred animals out of our solar system' - morale? PR? a fucking doggo gun? nothing to do with planetary security - 'so I would like to thank the committee for awarding us, you all for contributing to this development' - metaphorical blowjobs blew more than real ones, not that she'd ever tried the latter - 'and, of course, Moon, Gabe, Lami, Miri, Corum and Lugia, who made this possible. Rapid removal, everyone' - went the Weaponised Engineer Alien Removers' slogan.

Another round of slapping, this time like a shot of liquor, and she was all too upset to leave. But, as she presently found, this metaphor would be better applied to her conversation with Moon, and the message he carried.

'Repeat that one more time,' she demanded of her subordinate, his light-blue eyes like mercury coins. 

'Gabe saw a ship enter high Earth orbet, and the computer matches the markings to an alien race called the Spaghetti Men.'

'...'

'Maybe it's time to clean up the database.'

'No. Those aliens are a higher species,' she smelted, using the sword to slice through Moon's confusion, 'and we need to get back now.'

The boy stared around in wonderment at the metal rigging, such a contrast from the polished oak wood that decorated the conference room, as Aki's focused, almost monarchic, strides soon put them in a LearJet, modified with cold-fusio engines, to break the distance from New York to Prague in half an hour.

'...boss?' Moon tried, and perhaps Mellow realised how stressed she must've seemed to him. Well, better now than later to explain it, she supposed.

'You remember Clarke's Third Law, that any sufficiently advanced technology is equal to magic.' - as if the textbook could lead the way - 'Well, these Spaghetti Men serve a leader, who we call the Spaghetti God. It's not really omnipotent' - though the leadership had panicked as if it were one - 'but it can do things that we cannot understand, that break our scientific theories we take for granted.'

'That's pro'bly a myth, right? I mean, we (most agents) don't know about it.'

'There was an incident seven years ago, and management thought it was dangerous,' and covered up their mistakes, she did not add.

'Okay.' And that reply ended the conversation, but started another process, which caused them to arrive at UNDI-CZ-0 with a little more appreciation for the crooning saxophone of Sergey Stepanov.

\---

AUGUST 17TH 2030 (NIGHTTIME)

AN APARTMENT IN NEW YORK

Your right hand, stretched out to the ceiling, draws your eyes every night. You can't - and you really can't, stop trying to understand what happend that fateful - or, as it transpired, chaotic - night in 2023.

The left side, all the way to your wrist, is shrivelled with the scars of frostbite, normally a reserve of the hardiest mountain climbers. And the right side, from your middle and thumb, again to your wrist, was pockmarked with the burns normally a reserve of crazies who would set their hand on fire. 

And, again, your mind sinks... into your memories of what happened that night - a Spaghetti Man had dragged you in with one of his appendages - well, your hand - and your vision still seemed to retain the glow of the fire that flared out, its smoke strangely similar to the smoking nitrogen billowing out. Then, pain - but as if you had no nerves, as if there were merely signals in your brain. Perhaps, at least, you hadn't gone insane; another agent had hacked the Man to pieces, and the medics had found you - with your skin exactly the same as it is now - maximally healed. All the hypoallergenic cream in the world wouldn't make a dent. Your las two fingers were useless, and you eventually lost them in another mission; but your other fingers, strangely, could not break. You tried to spear-hand a wall once, and - though it would normally have broken every finger bone, and probably your wrist as well - it just rested there, as if you had placed it and started pushing. Too bad it didn't give you superstrength, or else you'd be working for the lumberjack - you were discharged two years ago, something about suspicion - with the compensation being your disability check…

The doorbell rings.

Eh?

Your Bezylon delivery isn't due until next week.

But, hey, maybe it's an unexpected surplus.

But, ugh, your past might've caught up to you, or some John-Wick-esque noir action movie bullshit.

You could look through the sneakhole or something, and theyc ould blind you, or shoot through it, or -

CLICK.

Ah.

Lockpicks exist.

So who's - or what's - been sent to kill you?

'[y/n]. Please come out.'

Aki.

'Alright, alright.'

Hand invincibility wasn't that amazing; it merely allowed one a few more durability points. But since there were other spots to aim for, like the head, neck, or heart, there was usually no point in fighting back.

You slide on your worn Nikes and shuffle out, where a disgruntled Aki has sat down on the couch. Upon seeing you, she stands up again. How odd.

'I've got a job for you.'

'What, to join the kamikaze unit?' you ask satirically; you never came at the top of your class, and UNDI had no lack of volunteers.

'No - it's about the Spaghetti Men,' she replies, as if insulted by your joke.

Wait.

'You mean the same-' 'Yes. Get your stuff, then we're to Prague.'

They finally had a lead, so maybe they wanted your recommendations, you suppose, as Aki sits down again.

'And, [y/n]?'

'Yes?'

'If you wear something that obscene in front of Moon and Miri, I will flay you with it.'

You received the ahegao shirt as a gift fro a friend, but - so much for first impressions, if you could call it that.

\---

AUGUST 18TH 2030

UNDI-WEAR-CZ-0 

You walk into the observation room, with a yellow polo, where the team - or the part of the team not on a mission - await you.

Aki: Her striped red panda's tail hangs over the floor, cloudy as the thought in the room, sticking out from her ubitiquous black suit, which is covered by her red hair, which in turn is indistinguishable from

Gabe: the redhead's browsing images on a monitor, pointing things out to the commander looking over his shoulder, as his uniform of long sleeves and pants hangs forward from his chair - no, not a gaming chair, which is the property of

Miri: Playing games with her friend,

Moon: You wonder how many updates it's been since you last played, and feel lucky that you don't play a Minecraft with diagonals. 

'Nice to see you got my message.'

A note with annoyingly perfect cursive awaiting your awakening. 

'So we've got a UFO here,' Gabe beckons you over indifferently, 'and the markings are those of the Spaghetti Men.'

'Seems correct.'

'Now, we don't know why, so-'

'-my job is to find out,' you finish.

'Took the words right out of my mouth.'

Aki speaks up, 'you'll be going with Moon.'

'Why?' you ask.

'He'll explain it to you,' she replies.

You should buy Gabe, a drink later, you decide, cause he's the only clear person in this place.

'So, when are we going?' you retry.

'Now.'

'Wh-' 'You'll find gear in the armoury, and the area has already been logged onto the car in the garage.'

As if in a stage play, someone tugs on your shit, and you turn to Moon -Miri is already engrossed in a new match - who announces he'll be your guide for today.

But - why did the aliens come back?

Why do they hide themselves?

Why did they attack in the first place?

Why?

W h y?

W  
h  
y  
?

Glass door / car engineer / tape measurer /  
shuffling products / black suit / curtain lock /  
Moony in Black / Glock / no /  
silver panacea / car keys / BEEP /  
'ooh, Recaro' / 400 kW / deja vu /  
drive into the night / end

Maybe - you can find answers here.

And as you step onto the tarmac, you wrap your fingers around the pistol.

Something you grabbed from the innards of the Man.

Bang. Bang.

Moon glances over at you worridly.

'No, no, look over there.'

A glimmer - that was opened by a bullet.

And as you step in - you're suddenlyassaulted by mathematicalpatterns, polygonsthatfold adinfinitumin ashriekingrepetitionofparallel OW

Moon's next to you, grabbing your arm, his body pressed on yours, his fangs sunk into your neck, the blood dripping down, as warm as him - almost some sort of erotic vampire fanfiction, though Aki would be angry.

And you see now - the patterns repeat.

P i e r c e i t .

And you're grabbing the shapes, through tangents, like a grade schooler playing in a ball pit on a sugar high - 

And it's being assembled into a structure, the shapes tangling up, making strings, and it reaches out, your sight fading, your ears thudding, your touch blooming, you're driving into static - 

But someone bites into it, Moony, brings it crashing down, and you're left in the pit, as he closes your eyes, he won't leave you, he's -

-

-

-

'Moon!' you gasp out.

Aki's sitting next to you, who is lying on a white hospital bed.

'...don't tell me you had a wet dream,' she replies with that trademark attitude.

What'd I ever do to deserve this hate, you try to glare, but it comes out as a pathetic look.

'Anyway, I found you passed out in your room.'

Leaving aside that she was in your room - 

'What's the date?' you stumble out.

'...2023,' she replies, 'two days after the incident.'

'Have you employed anyone else since then?'

'No, why?' she replies.

'I've got someone for you,' you claim, as if you could tell the future.

'I can't have you fainting on me now,' she warns.

'Don't worry.'

'If I could inquire - you had an emotional breakdown?'

'Yeah, something like that. But I fixed it in my dreams, don't worry,' you reply, too tired to smile, either at the irony or the idealism.

But there's work to be done, so you push yourself off as Aki playfully whaps you with her tail.


	2. What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In one sense, it's building up towards a climax, and in another sense, it's rejecting one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Retujy: It's trash.  
> Mikato: I shouldn't have written it.  
> Retujy: You have to say that it's good, so the audience gets a placebo instead of a nocebo. But I doubt that would have fixed it.  
> PTO: shaddup u 2 and - Enjoy the story! :D

Nothing.

It means the feeling of lying on a hospital bed, the feeling of staring at the pale wallpaper, the feeling of, having been given a beautiful, almost storylike experience, the dull encroachment of blunt life.

It also adequately describes what Aki found when she searched the databases.

Then when you explained your dream to yer, she merely nodded, as if it were all explainable by PTSD or some other diagonosis that any undereducated, underpaid "counselor" could dredge up. In other words, the fantasy, too, could be explained by the same word: nothing.

...perhaps you should focus on another word.

'Fuck.'

And, as if by magic, you suddenly realised that your hand fucking smarted, your body was fucking sore, your mind was fucking fucked-up - no, it wasn't a very good alternative.

Then - more words. If an artist had gotten a gray piece of paper, and rolled over layers of acrylic Anonymous, over and over and over again - then turned it inside out, so it was as if nothing had happened.

It was predictable in the sense that cooks could always be counted upon to create new recipes, recipes which were occasionally good but mostly dumpster filler.

Needless to say, suicide wasn't an option when all that awaited you was standard-issue nonthink.

Maybe the dream was just a delusion.

If so, you'd have a better time going outside.

Past the walls, past the doors, past the path.  
The neon burns.

You escape.

To your habitual hiding-place.

'It's about time, renegade.'

And - it was as if time started moving again. As if you realised everything you needed to do, or everything you couldn't do, or everything that you couldn't ignore - so as you drop onto Aki - darkness has not felt good.

-

When you come to, you're in a small, glassily metallic room.

It's almost an unrealistic spaceship, being the kind of glitzy chrome Beyblade that would've felt at home in an eighties movie prop collection.

Aki's beaming at you, as you stretch yourself off the plain white bed into the starry light.

'Congratulations, [y/n].'

'Where are we?'

'Where we are is not important.'

Fuuuck.

'Say what you want to say, then.'

'This — this is all you want.

Though —

It would be more accurate to say that whatever you want, you'll get.'

'I didn't think you had such able connections.'

'Oh, no, I did this myself. Here, I'll show you.'

And she presses you back onto the bed, her smile almost like a smirk. How come you've never looked at her this way before? Her red hair, streaked with tinges of white, runs across her head in a tomboyish stride, her sharp, sanpaku eyes cutting across her light face, the blush playing across her cheeks - and as she presses herself into you, her soft Tyrian corset unbuttoned, the linen itch-inducing with the heat, her touch spasms, through your clothing, into your veins, for they could not hold the supple softness that is her skin - which should be off limits - 

and you are aware of this LICENTIOUS, SICKENING, DEPRAVED situation, for what's dirtier than wishing for someone you can't have - and you try to push her off, trying to cease your mental pause, but she's coaxing all the fight out of you, you have to break free -

and back to reality, back to your room -

the air entering your lungs in ragged shots.

A curious blond boy, his hoodie draped over his black shirt and sweatpants, lays you down on the floor carefully. Aki's there too, with that disapproving stare of hers, and the past buzzes back.

' - Moon?' you call to him instinctively.

'Mooncake, actually,' Aki interjects.

'And how'd you find him?'

'I have my connections.'

'I guess you know something?' or else she brought a boy to your house every night.

'I have my theories… but tell me what you know.'

Ah. No, you'd rather not reveal your sin.

'You need not reveal the details.'

'Erm. So I wake up on a spaceship, where you were waiting for me, and you said something about wishes-'

'What did that person say, sic erat scriptum?'

You thought she said - ah, never mind. 'She told me that "This— this is all you want," and that "whatever you want, you'll get",' and you thread the pauses.

'And then you woke up?'

'Yes.'

'...how?'

No, you're the one who should be asking questions, the first of which is how the fuck do you explain some R18 shit while a minor's in the room.

'...well… it was pretty weird, so when you came near me I thought you were gonna attack or something, so I tried to escape, then I woke.'

'...I think I see now.'

'What is it?'

'It's one of those answers where you can't tell people - or else it's not an answer anymore.'

So she even has an excuse now.

'Ugh. Alright.'

'Well, I can tell you that Mooncake here is the Wolf Heir. That means he can wake people from dreams by biting them.'

'Some smelling salts would be better.'

'No, the dreams are…' dictionary-search in progress '...special,' she decided.

'Then how do we fix this?'

'We get on a spaceship and blast some aliens out of the water,' Mooncake chirped up brightly.


	3. How.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This belongs to #need-someone-to-talk-to, but then it wouldn't have worked as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikato: I am very tempted to ditch the fandom and come back after I've mastered a few more tricks, since this story was just ugly self-consolation.  
> Retujy: Don't you dare.  
> Mikato: Fuck you, Retujy.  
> Retujy: Fuck you too.  
> PTO: m8 if u wanna be wannabe bo burnham i swere - and enjoy the story!

Insomnia rolled down the spaceship's windows as self-evident as the surrounding dark matter, pushing in on you like an inversed fishtank. You can certainly move freely, but your choices are slim.

Maybe - you should've taken the dream. To empty your rounds into a woman, to accomplish the meaning of life, to feel something - and Aki appears in your mind, you're poised over her -

NO!

And it was as if, no, at that momemnt, it was literally a ray of light that shone through the glass, impaling both your Aki - and the real Aki.

Moon's words are a distant call, and so too is the buzzer that shutters the windows - for her touch, as you rush into her, is almost like the quenching of a sodium spear in an explosion of silence, and let there be light, for it reveals the red blood that so often stains cotton.

'I… bequest… my power… to you.'

And - she's dead - you think she's dead - your thoughts are of a dead person - your thoughts are dead - 

And Moon bites into you, a succumbus feasting on the guilt of involuntary celibacy - and as everything fell into place, it began to be understandable.

The Spaghetti Men did not exist.

Your want for fantasies drove you to hallucinations.

In those falsities, time did not pass -

because Aki was stopping time.

But - you can't use her power.

So you turn back.

To a faint memory, in your terminal year of high school.

To the day you met Moon.

And he was everything, wrapped up in a package of loose clothing.

But - you couldn't have him. You did not pay for the package, and you did not have the ability to steal it.

And Aki, the artist, lit the wick, the fire as yellow as his hair - your love such that you forgot: it was the light, not the lighter, that you really needed.

You clutch at the mirage of a confused boy -

but he's there,

serious,

glorious,

social.

Then the only way out - 

is to quit the game - 

before Moon rips out your flesh -

with a stick-bug on it.

'This was the source of the hallucinations,' he asserts, before tossing it in a plastic box, where it untwitchingly lays.

Then he stuffs some pills in your mouth, and you use him as a pillow.

-

'Congratulations,' as you wake up on a bed, presumably real.

Moon's sitting cross legged on your bed, and Aki's left some flowers.

'...what happened?'

'It's the summer holidays, and we came to visit, only for you to spout some stuff about MIB. Aki figured we could trick you into waking up, so we got a stick bug and pretended it was an alien.'

It was a pretty shitty insanity, but as Moony sneaks in and hugs you tightly - yes, you'll just enjoy this.


End file.
